


For You

by Riley_Sivertsen



Series: random tma fics in the same canon-ish universe [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, Jon feels guilty, M/M, Martin's first night in the archives, No beta we die like archival assistants, Post-Episode Colony, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Relationship, jon makes the tea for once, martin has attack triggered by knocking, projecting on martin blackwood hours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:14:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26496958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riley_Sivertsen/pseuds/Riley_Sivertsen
Summary: It’s Martin’s first night sleeping in the Archives, and Jon is sitting in his office, unable to get two little words out of his head.For you.Guilt and self-doubt lead to him stand outside Martin’s door with a cup of tea. Without fully processing what he’s doing, he knocks.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: random tma fics in the same canon-ish universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037412
Comments: 31
Kudos: 244





	For You

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe this is my first tma fic, I really need to fix that.
> 
> I hate how Martin's two-week living nightmare is often glossed over too much in the face of, you know, *everything else*, and I wanted to give it the attention I thought it deserved.

_“…I hadn’t really done enough investigation **for you** …”_

_“I wanted proof **for you** …”_

Jon sat alone in his office, staring at nothing as the words repeated on a loop in his head. He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there. He just knew that he felt like the scum of the earth at the moment and he didn’t know what to do about it.

_For you_ , Martin said.

Not for the Institute.

Not for his own curiosity.

_For you._

Martin had taken action with Jon in mind – _Jon_ , who snapped at him and constantly questioned his quality of work and accepted his cups of tea like they were unwanted wedding invitations – and all he had to show for it was two weeks of isolated trauma and a lumpy mattress in the Archives to sleep on.

Every impolite act and unkind word Jon had aimed towards Martin replaced the previous reel spinning around his mind, each one leaving a bad taste in his mouth and a twinge in his chest he didn’t know how to get rid of. The fact that _he_ was the person Martin had put himself in such danger for…

_Damn it all_ , Jon thought.

The least he could do was give the man a cup of tea.

His limbs were mostly asleep, so standing from his chair and going to the break room was a slow and painful process, but Jon ignored the pins and needles as he waited for the kettle to boil, and realized he had no idea how Martin took his tea.

Martin had never asked Jon how he took his tea.

Yet it was always exactly right.

The twinge in Jon’s chest tightened.

He put together a cup as best he could and figured it would have to do, and by the time he found himself standing before the closed door to the storage room, he was having second thoughts. Surely it was best to simply leave it alone? Martin didn’t need Jon to impose on him just to make himself feel better. Martin had been through hell; didn’t he deserve some peace and quiet without pointless interruptions?

_Stop it_ , said a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Tim and Sasha. Both had left for the day hours ago, but he could still see the way they would look at him as though he’d kicked a wounded puppy whenever he was harsh with Martin in front of them.

Jon always pretended not to notice those looks, but he did. He just hadn’t thought he cared about them until now. He needed to do this, if he wanted the imaginary glares of his colleagues to cease.

He gripped the steaming cup in one hand, and raised his other.

He knocked.

At first, he thought perhaps he was at the wrong door, or that Martin was already asleep.

Jon knocked again.

Nothing. Perhaps Martin just didn’t want to see anyone. Or perhaps he didn’t want to see Jon in particular, which Jon wouldn’t blame him for.

Still, he tried knocking one more time.

He heard a sound from inside the room, something that sounded distinctly like a whimper. Without pausing to think, Jon gripped the handled and opened the door.

The moment he saw Martin’s shape, huddled in the corner on the mattress, arms wrapped around his curled-up legs and rocking slightly back and forth, Jon realized his mistake.

_Fuck._

He put the cup down on the floor and rushed to kneel beside the bed.

“Martin?” he tried awkwardly. “Martin, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–”

He cut himself off when Martin raised his head slightly and looked at him with wide, terrified eyes that were spilling silent tears down his face, his breath coming out in sharp, too-short gasps.

Jon had done that to him, by once again being utterly careless.

“Jon?” Martin asked with a pained breath, a trembling whisper.

“Yes, it’s only me,” Jon said. He felt rather helpless, not knowing what to do, how to fix this mess of a situation he’d created. He couldn’t quite stomach the thought that he was responsible for the haunted look in Martin’s eyes.

“I – I heard the knocking and…” Martin’s breath hitched.

“I know,” Jon said. “I’m truly sorry; it was stupid and I didn’t think. I just wanted to give you a cup of tea, not bring back…all of this.”

He didn’t realize he’d put his hand on Martin’s knee until the larger man’s fingers gripped it and held on like it was the only thing tethering him to reality, reminding him where he was. Jon couldn’t bring himself to mind, not if it helped take Martin out of those memories.

“I’m sorry,” Martin said, his voice a little more steady now but breathing still uneven.

“What on earth could you have to be sorry for?” Jon asked, a little harsher than he intended. It made Martin flinch.

“You shouldn’t have to…Just, I don’t mean to be so much trouble, you know?” Martin’s eyes flittered around, looking anywhere but at Jon. “You shouldn’t have to deal with me like this; you’ve already done so much.”

Jon nearly laughed at that absurdity, but thankfully stopped himself. He’d been in his office for hours trying to process his guilt, and here Martin was, blaming _himself_ for struggling after what he went through.

The sad part was that Jon couldn’t even be surprised. He tried to remember if Martin ever contradicting him whenever he berated the state or speed or quality of his work. He came up empty. Martin always just…nodded and apologized, like it went without saying that he deserved any criticism he got.

To his great shame, Jon realized he had taken advantage of that. His own problems were too frightening for him to deal with so he deflected by taking this soft, gentle person who had a kind word and a cup of tea for anyone he met, and took his moods out on him. Judging by the way Martin just accepted it, Jon wondered how many other people had done the same thing throughout his life.

Jon had never really considered himself a bad person. Harsh; sharp; rude without really meaning to and incapable of reading most situations, but never _bad_ , never cruel or mean-spirited.

Yet he couldn’t excuse his treatment of Martin as anything else.

“Don’t– don’t apologize to me, Martin,” Jon muttered awkwardly. “Please.”

Martin’s eyes finally focused on Jon, full of confusion and worry. “I don’t understand.”

Jon swallowed. “You don’t owe me or anyone else any apologies.”

He felt like he should say something else, something _more_ , but he wasn’t exactly adept at giving comfort. He did, however, have a great deal of experience with fear. He might as well try to help, and Martin’s breathing still hadn’t returned to normal.

“Martin, are you alright to breathe with me?” he asked.

More confusion in the other man’s face, but he nodded, uncertain.

“Good.” Jon tightened his hold on Martin’s hand, and guided Martin’s other hand to his own chest, resting over his lungs. “Focus on my breathing, alright? Try to copy it. Can you do that?”

Martin stared at his hand on Jon’s shirt like it was one of the greatest mysteries of the universe, but he nodded again.

Jon took a deep breath through his nose, held it for five seconds, and exhaled deeply for seven. Breathe in. Hold. Exhale.

He repeated the motions until he was certain that Martin was copying, and kept going until the hand he was holding stopped shaking. It took several long minutes, but eventually he trusted that Martin’s body, at least, was calm enough.

“Better?” he asked.

Martin had closed his eyes as he breathed, and now he opened them and looked at Jon like he’d just performed some kind of magic trick. He let the hand on Jon’s chest drop, but didn’t let go of the one he was holding.

“Yeah,” Martin said. “Th-thanks.”

They sat in silence for a while, neither of them quite knowing where to go from there. Suddenly Martin seemed to remember they were holding hands, and he carefully extracted his fingers and wrapped his arms around his middle.

“Sorry,” he said with a small, tired smile. “Didn’t mean to cut off your circulation or anything.”

Jon flexed his fingers; they were a little stiff, but they also seemed unusually cold now without Martin holding them. Which was a silly thing to dwell on, so he didn’t.

“Quite alright,” Jon said. “Nothing less than I deserve, given the circumstances.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Jon,” Martin said, because of course he did. “Me overreacting to you knocking on my door isn’t your fault.”

Jon stood from where he’d been kneeling, knees popping before he settled on the edge of the mattress. “Martin, you were _not_ overreacting,” he said strictly. “You don’t need to downplay what happened to you. Everything you went through the past thirteen days was _bad_. It was terrifying and isolating, and struggling because of it is okay. Do you hear me? You do not have to apologize for not surviving a nightmare unaffected.”

Martin looked down, and there was a slight, pink blush on his cheeks and ears. It looked quite endearing, really, which was another silly thing to think at the moment.

“Yeah, Jon,” Martin said shyly. “I hear you.” Then his head snapped up and his eyes locked with Jon. “Wait, did you say you were bringing me tea?”

Jon blinked for a second, and then he laughed because honestly, nothing else seemed appropriate. Martin’s smile widened and he chuckled once, carefully. Jon got up and picked up the forgotten mug from the floor.

“It might be cold by now,” Jon pointed out. “And I wasn’t sure how you take it, so…”

Martin still took the mug when Jon held it out, wrapped his hands around it like it was still steaming. He looked into it in wonder.

“No one’s ever gotten _me_ a cup of tea,” Martin said so low Jon wasn’t certain he was supposed to hear it, and his heart broke as the guilt rose up again with full force.

“Thank you,” Martin said louder, and took a sip of the tea. He met Jon’s eyes with a genuine smile. “It’s perfect.”

Jon could tell he was lying, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Martin was smiling, the shadows of his trauma momentarily banished to the back of his mind again, and for now, that was all that mattered.

“Will you be able to sleep?” Jon asked. “I’ll be staying in my office for a little longer. If you want, we can leave the doors open and the hallway light on. If you’re asleep by the time I leave, I can close your door.”

Martin stared at him again with that strange look of wonder, like he was so unused to people prioritizing _his_ comfort and peace of mind that it took a second to process. He nodded, though, and Jon nodded back, pausing to give Martin what he hoped was a reassuring smile before he left the room, leaving the door open as he went.

*

“ _It was **for me** , though.”_

Once again Martin had put himself at risk for Jon’s sake. But this time, Jon understood why. This time, he wasn’t blind to his own feelings. This time, he was returning the favor.

Jon would scour every inch of the Lonely if that’s what it took.

For Martin.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments joy to my heart and do wonders for my mental wellbeing, if you want to leave them ♥️
> 
> You can come shriek at me about multiple fandoms on tumblr @mx-riley and I hope you're being kind and taking care of yourself in these hard times. Did you take your meds today? 😘


End file.
